It's The Dark Ones That Hurt
by stellamirandaa
Summary: Little Hermione Granger was the perfect Hogwarts student. However, she had a dark past no one knew about. She kept it locked in the deep corridors of her heart. "He showed me what secrets looked like in the light. They looked like freedom."


Title: It's The Dark Ones That Hurt

Summary: Little Hermione Granger was, so the speak, the perfect Hogwarts student. She was at the top of her class and she had blossomed over the few years and become one of the most beautiful girls of Gryffindor – some had even found a few of the Slytherins admiring her out of the corners of their eyes. However, she had a dark secret no one knew about. She kept it locked in the deep corridors of her heart and it wasn't until that one evening in the Room of Requirement that it came to be revealed – to none other than Draco Malfoy. Written for the 'Can You Write a Dramione?' Challenge!

* * *

She woke up earlier than the rest of the dormitory, putting on her facade, ready to face another day of lies and deceit. After the years of failed muggle shampoos, Hermione had finally learnt the secret to physical beauty. As she stepped lightly out of bed, she rubbed her red eyes and squinted at her roommates – other Gryffindor girls sleeping soundly, no doubt dreaming of little but attractive boys and clothes.

Hermione never dreamed.

She had nightmares.

Entering the bathroom, she was relieved to be in privacy. Her shirt and underwear came off swiftly as she stepped into the shower, making sure the cool water hit her eyes enough to drench out the puffiness from last night. After so many years of being called the ugly, nerdy girl, she had decided to take matters into her own hands. There was nothing wrong with her actual face, it was just that she had never taken much pride into her morning routine.

Whispering a charm, Hermione's hair dried to sit in perfect ringlets around her face. She slipped on a white lace dress before applying her careful make up. Sometimes she found herself wondering why she bothered at all, but whenever those thoughts entered her mind, others did too.

_You're disgusting._

_No boy would want you._

_Just get in bed already, you pathetic girl._

* * *

Draco Malfoy was used to being bored in classes. He may not have been the most rule abiding student, but there was no doubt that he was intelligent. At the very least, smart enough to know that Professor Flitwick had been teaching them the same charm for the past three weeks. One would expect the class to have picked it up perfectly already, but Longbottom was slow to learn, as per usual.

"Draco," cooed Pansy Parkinson as she struggled with their classwork, "This class is boring me. Do you wanna go to the Lake afterwards?"

"You're not even doing it right yet," he replied with exasperation, "If you only had half a brain, we probably wouldn't have to be here listening to thumping Flitwick go over the same stuff again and again."

Pansy dropped her gaze and focused harder on her charm. She was terrified of Draco sometimes, but that wasn't going to stop her love. After all, he was a Malfoy and was certainly the most dateable out of all the losers in their year.

He allowed his eyes to wander the room; finally settling on the feminine figure seated two rows down from him. Draco closed his eyes, breathing in the strong floral scent he recognized almost too well after so many afternoons in the same classrooms. Her body had grown to be womanlier in the last two years, as had her sense of fashion. He stared as her brows furrowed in marked concentration, although he knew she had nailed the spell long ago. Granger was like that, and it was these traits that he found irresistible.

Ever since his father had disappeared, his mental guards against Mudbloods had begun to weaken. As grotesque as he found vulnerability, there was something about the way that girl made him feel that he seemed to adore.

"Mr Malfoy," asked the professor, "Why are you not… waving?"

"I'm waving, I'm waving," he sighed, lifting his wand for the umpteenth time.

* * *

_Why don't you love me daddy?_

_But I do love you, munchkin._

_But this hurts._

_Love is meant to hurt, baby._

* * *

Hermione awoke abruptly from her nightmares, her body drenched in cold sweat. She pulled her shirt away from her body, feeling her heart pound in her chest. Subconsciously, she scratched at her thighs, leaving long red marks. She was dirty, she felt like she needed a shower.

But there are some stains water can't wash away.

Creeping out of the dormitory once again, she decided that she had no choice but to do what she had told herself many times she would never do again. Her experienced footsteps were almost silent on the stairs, and she purposefully skipped over the creaky spots.

Hermione had never been caught out before. Except for that one time, the first time, but she was able to convince Harry that she needed a trip to the lavatory and that the one in the dorms was flooded. She suspected that her wild haired friend was waiting for Sirius by the fireplace, but she never got her answer. Once she returned to the common room, slightly worse for wear, he was gone.

Dressed in little but her sweaty white tank and striped pajama bottoms, she opened the portrait doorway and sneaked down the familiar corridor.

_Stop fighting before I really hurt you._

* * *

Nights were never good for sleep, Draco Malfoy had decided as he confidently strolled the dark corridors. He could picture shadow running out to chase him, and every creak to be the weight of his enemy. Things like that never scared him. If anything, he reveled in it, loving the thrill to having to check every corner for a killing curse.

However, tonight there was little adrenalin in his system. _She_ seemed to be the only thing filling his head, and it irritated him beyond belief. There was something about the way she had gradually grown to be beautiful, instead of layering on the charms like all the other girls. She was natural, and in that sense, she was the most desirable of them all.

He took a seat on a bench, wondering to himself why Granger had to be a mudblood and why he found her so impossible to forget. Burying his head in his hands, he could perfectly remember that time she punched him in the face. Ironically, it didn't bring back anger, but rather delight at the ferocity of her emotions. He found it excessively cute when she showed even the slightest of frustration; it broke through the calm exterior she liked to portray.

A loud crash from the next corridor broke Draco out of his memories. It seemed to be the sound of smashing bottles. Standing, he decided to investigate the source of the noise and, possibly, discover the little first year.

Draco Malfoy could always be up for another blackmailed slave.

However, the next corridor was empty, as was the next. The classrooms were left undisturbed and eve Peeves seemed to be missing that night. Draco paced, wondering where the sound could possibly be from. The night had become boring and he desperately needed something to pull him away from the stupid thoughts that kept threatening to devour his consciousness whole.

A door appeared unexpectedly. Draco's eyes widened at its appearance, he hadn't seen this room before and there was no way he was tired enough to have missed a large, out of place, mahogany door. He pressed his ear to it, hearing an odd female voice.

_Can't be loved…_

_Must be beautiful…_

_Keep hurting me…_

_Forget this pain…_

Softly, Draco pushed the door open, popping his blonde head inside.

* * *

Hermione felt like she was flying. She spun around in circles, letting her laughter fill up the Room of Requirement. For some reason, she felt wetness on her cheeks, but she wasn't crying. There was no way she could be. She was happy.

A bottle of firewhiskey was in her hand and she discarded the other bottles on the floor. The dark room had been filled with colorful bottles of things she didn't know, from wall to wall she found happiness. She took another swing of the large bottle as her body swayed from side to side, too ecstatic to walk steadily.

There had been so many nights she had spent here, sooner falling asleep on the cold stone floor than to leave her delightful drinks. She had been haunted by those memories since she was a child and the pain only seemed to sink deeper into her chest. On the evening of her fourteenth birthday, Hermione had snuck out and discovered the joy of being able to, even temporarily, forget all of the demons lurking underneath her bed sheets.

Ever since then, she had repeated drunk herself to oblivion every night. She awoke with a headache the next day, but having developed her early morning beauty regime so well, nobody had ever caught on. She was glad for it. Hermione didn't need anyone worrying about her, because really there was nothing to worry about.

What could possibly be wrong with a little firewhiskey here and there?

"Granger?" whispered a voice.

Hermione almost couldn't hear him over the loud music playing in her head and the bright colors churning through the room. Sometimes she wondered what would have happened if she hadn't heard that voice – if she hadn't been saved. She didn't realize at the time.

Her angel had come.

* * *

"Granger?" Draco whispered upon observation of her lithe figure spinning in odd circles, and dancing to the silent music of sorts. She turned, her dazed brown eyes locking with his. For a moment, he noticed that in her confusion a half smile had begun to appear. It faded as soon as it clicked who he actually was.

"Malfoy!" she exclaimed, a little louder than she usually would have.

He entered the room, closing the door lightly behind him, so as not to wake the entire castle with her suddenly flamboyant voice. "What do you think you're doing?" he whispered in harsh tones, "Are you drunk?"

Draco wasn't sure if the anger in his voice translated well to the obviously not sober Gryffindor because she proceeded to smile and drag him towards the center of the room, "It's firewhiskey!" she stated, "It's soo good! Here, try some, try some!" She forced a large bottle into his hand as she took another swing from hers.

His eyes were widened in shock. In front of him stood the golden child of Hogwarts, the picturesque girl whom so many had held on the highest pedestal. Her perfect hair was in tatters, mussed all over, her eyes were unfocused and she seemed to be living in an absolute daze.

Hermione Granger was a drunk.

His grey eyes scanned the room and observing that an entire shelf had fallen down, more than likely knocked by her drunken dancing, he promptly dropped his bottle and fought Hermione's out of her fragile hands. It wasn't hard, they were shaking and struggling to carry any weight at all.

"What do you think you're doing?" she growled, her euphoric state suddenly turning bitter, "Are you insane? What are you even doing here? This is my room! Go away!"

Draco roughly pulled the girl down on the floor, pinning her down by the wrists so that she would stay still. He covered her mouth with his hand to stop her uncontrolled shouting, "I was walking the corridor. This isn't your room, you're supposed to be sleeping in your dormitory. Why are you here? You're not acting like you're, you've drunk more than your fair share."

Surprisingly, the anger in her eyes didn't disappear as quickly as her happiness, but tears did well swiftly. Soon they were streaming down her beautiful face so strongly that Draco was compelled to release her. Hermione drew her legs up and curled herself, stifling her sobs into her clothing.

He bit his bottom lip as he searched his pockets for a handkerchief, but he had none. Draco had never been faced with a crying girl before, especially one he had spent the past few hours hours trying to forget.

He did the only thing he could.

Pulling her into a tight embrace, he let her head bury into his chest. He continued to hold her, feeling her shoulders jerk violently with her tears, until she started to settle down. By then, his shirt was soaked through and his worry had begun to show on his pointed face.

"What happened?" he found himself asking with surprising gentleness.

Hermione looked up at him, her eyes red. He had never been one she would've considered trustworthy, there had been times she's doubted he'd have a good bone in his body at all, but there he was sitting in a room full of smashed bottles, looking at her with wide eyes filled with genuine concern. He had reached out a hand to help her and she had never even asked.

She took a deep breath before telling him her story.

* * *

_Children are often considered the most beautiful human beings of all. Their laughter is often compared to the sound of wind chimes, and the vivacity seen in their eyes is envied by so many. However, not many realize that the fundamentals of this beauty lies little in their physical appearance, but the way they are able to be amazed by things so small that any adult would overlook. Their innocence is what makes children the most prized possession in any family._

_Hermione Granger was never treated like that._

_Mrs Granger had been spending so much time in her office by Hermione's sixth birthday that she was starting to forget what her mother looked like. When she looked around the living room with her unknowing eyes, she suspected that was why her daddy was sad all the time. Sometimes he got really cross at her and would throw her toys across the room. Last night he even broke Polly Dolly, but she was too scared to cry._

_In the end, she had sat silently on the stairs, crying as softly as possible with the pieces of her only friend resting in her lap._

_That evening, her father seemed to be in a happier mood than usual. His cheeks were red from drinking – drinking what, Hermione wasn't sure, it just looked icky to her – and he was smiling as he collapsed on the lounge._

"_Hi Daddy," she greeted, carefully approaching her father._

"_Well, aren't you a little darling," he complimented her unusually, "In that pretty little dress. You wanna come give daddy a hug?"_

_She gave him a hug._

_He gave her a kiss._

_The next thing she knew, he was hurting her, and it hurt so bad and it was so bad it hurt. Little Hermione cried and cried for her Daddy to stop, but he wouldn't stop. Her legs were starting to hurt, let alone her private spot in between them. The teachers at school told her no one was allowed to touch her there, but Daddy was touching her._

_Was it okay if Daddy touched her?_

_He was touching her with his own private spot, and it hurt so much Hermione wanted to do more than cry but she didn't know what else she could do. She was bleeding, she felt like someone had torn at her like Polly Dolly was torn._

_Daddy tore her up like her dolly. _

* * *

Her tears were flowing by the end. Her dark past had been revealed to her mortal enemy, but instead of wanting to silence him, all she felt was ashamed.

Hermione was ashamed that her own father had taken her virginity.

Hermione was ashamed he had done it so many times.

Hermione was ashamed because now that it was out in words, it became reality.

Draco's fingers were firmly clasped around his wand, the anger within him almost burning through his chest. He wouldn't stand for anyone to hurt her like that. He could sense her anguish at the past she had kept locked up in her heart for so many years. "I'm going to kill that scoundrel," he announced through gritted teeth.

"NO!" Hermione exclaimed, grabbing him arms with startling force, "Don't do anything. No one can know about this. You could get in so much trouble."

"For what it's worth, I don't care. No father should treat his children like that. Hell, I thought my parents were foul, this is disgusting."

Hermione's eyes flicked down with disgrace. It was true, it was disgusting, she was disgusting. She felt the dirt all over her skin, as though what Malfoy had said before about her being a Mudblood should've been taken in a literal sense.

She blamed herself anyway. It was her fault for being too weak to pull her father away, it was her fault for allowing things to continue like you.

_You're disgusting._

_No boy would want you._

_You're disgusting._

_No boy would want you._

Hermione pulled at her hair, shrieking at the words that were imprinted into her head. It was all her fault. She was disgusting. No one could ever love her. That's all her father did, he showed her the love she would never experience. What is rape anyway? She deserved every bit of it because she was disgusting and foul.

"Hermione, Hermione," Draco shushed her, pulling her close again, "It's okay, I'll stay here. I won't do anything."

She sobbed into his shoulder, "I'm disgusting," she muttered repeatedly, "No boy would want me. I'm disgusting. No boy would want me."

Shocked, he pulled her face towards him, "What in the world are you talking about?"

"Look at me, I've been violated. I'm ugly. I'm disgusting. Why would anyone even touch someone like me? I'm a mudblood, I'm filthy all over!" she lifted up her hands to his face, "See? I'm disgusting." She collapsed onto the floor again, "Please give me back the bottle. I need to get away from this. I need to forget."

"No," he stated firmly, before leaning forward onto her weak figure and kissing her straight on the mouth, "Don't hide away, don't forget."

Hermione was stunned, "Why did you kiss me?"

He rested his forehead on his, "Because, Hermione, you're not disgusting. You're beautiful. But you're right, no boy would want you; not a straight thinking, logical one anyway," a smile played on his lips, "Luckily for you, I'm not the rational sort."

He kissed her.

He kissed her.

He kissed her and showed her what love really was.

* * *

_Draco Malfoy._

_He took my dark past._

_He took my secrets locked in that gold box._

_He stole the key._

_He showed me what secrets look like in the light._

_They look like freedom._


End file.
